Twisted Justice
by Gray Rain
Summary: Robin leads a group of outlaws in the mountains...by why are they outlaws? And why is there a mercenary as acting lord?
1. The Merry Men

 **_Disclaimer:_**_ If I owned this, do you REALLY think I'd be posting it as fanfiction? No. Its based on Tamora Pierce's  Tortall series. See, I'm a _fan_ writing _fiction_. Get it now? Not mine, never was, never will be. _

**_AN:_**_ takes place at the time of 'Lady Knight'_

**_Twisted Justice_**

****

**_Chapter 1…The Merry Men_**__

"Robin!" the voice carried clearly through the clearing. 

Robin sat at ease in the fork of a tree, polishing the already shiny longbow held in competent hands. "Yes, John?" Robin replied with infinite patience. 

John ambled over easily enough, a tall man with broad shoulders and a face old before its time. He had dull brown hair and lively green eyes. "You know it isn't safe to sneak past the sentries." He scolded gently. "Come on down." 

Robin sighed. Hair a shade darker than John's, with red undertones, was a little damp from sweat. The summer heat was only a little uncomfortable in the shade. "You treat me like a child." Robin's face was hard, angular, with high cheekbones and a straight, proud nose. Oddly soft lips and long lashes softened an otherwise hawk-like face. 

"You act like a child." John said easily. "Sneaking away from camp like that…under your own men's noses, too!" 

"If I can do it—" 

"Anyone can do it, yes, I know. If I've heard it once I've heard it a thousand times."   
"You're mighty grown-up for someone fast approaching 18." Robin said, nose in the air, warm golden eyes glittering.   
 "Your mighty childish for someone fast approaching 17." John replied easily. 

"Look at the difference a whole year makes." Robin grinned at the tall man. 

"Robin." John began, more serious. "Remember the messenger we sent to the King?" 

Robin went cold. All fun fell from the sharp face. "Yes." 

"He's still a few days away. With him is a company of men-at-arms and another nobleman, to take the place of the one who was killed." John's face twisted, and he spat in disrespect. "Pah!" 

Robin was oddly silent as they approached the camp. Made up of tents spelled to be waterproof and safe from the weather, the band of outlaws relied mainly on the mage's protective circles to hide them. They moved whenever Robin deemed it unsafe. 

Having grown up amongst the pines and the cyprus, hiding in the caves from siblings, or up trees, or in gullies, Robin knew the land around Fief Avonsleigh better than any man. 

For an almost 17-year-old to be the leader of an infamous group of outlaws was a hard thing to swallow. 

Mithros, sometimes Robin couldn't believe it, either.

Heading to the tent specifically for Robin's own use, the lean youth set down the longbow next to a neatly made bedroll and picked up the note one of the mages had scribbled down. 

 It read:

_King Jonathan has sent as many men as can be spared. Also sent was a noble. He has been granted the title of Lord of Avonsleigh after doing a heroic act (couldn't remember what)_

Robin rolled golden eyes. The messenger always forgot the damndest things. It was why a note had to be written for him. 

_Meet you at High Falls in six days. If late, meet at Rocky Hollow in eight. _

Folding the paper neatly, Robin tucked it into a pocket, laying down on the bedroll, remembering how things used to be, before…

Mercenaries had come, footloose and wanting their own land. Carving up the pitifully weak defenses of the small Fief, another man had taken to running the Fief. 

And this wasn't an ordinary attempt at grabbing another's land, or riches. With funds raised by trading, and mining, the man who was currently 'lord' was building himself an army…the rumors were, he planned to aid in the Scanran war…fighting against Tortall's forces.

_At least he aims high._ Robin thought dryly. 

Knowing there were lessons to be taught and learnt, men that needed to see leadership, Robin left the tent, in search of John. 

"Men approaching from the north." A young man ran up to Robin. He was panting, but his eyes were bright. 

"Enemy?" Robin asked quickly, picking up a bow that had been in the family for generations. 

It was one thing the mercenaries wouldn't take. 

The scout nodded. "Maybe twenty." Robin grinned. Securing a quiver over strong shoulders, golden eyes searched the camp for John. 

With a small sigh, Robin put a finger to his lips and whistled in an eerie imitation of a robin. 

Instantly, the already quiet camp went quieter. Men grabbed weapons and made a ring around Robin so quickly if someone wasn't used to it, they're head would spin. 

"Maybe twenty men approaching from the north. Ten men stay behind, thirteen come with me. Those who stay behind dismantle tents. Be ready to leave. The rest of us will be waiting our new friends in the trees." Robin quickly picked out ten men who had been in the last skirmish and chose them to stay and dismantle tents. They would leave after the slaughter. 

"Let's move, boys." Robin strung the huge bow, watching as the other's did the same, before moving on foot into the forest around them. 

Long sensitive fingers drew the arrow deftly. Eyes unusually keen, sighted the main target. Robin looked around at where the men were positioned in trees. Not being able to see them didn't cause the leader any worries…in fact, it eased them, if anything. 

Knowing instinctively when to fire, Robin loosed an arrow. He picked off the last man in the group. No one noticed when he slid forward in his saddle but his horse, shifting nervously beneath the suddenly lax weight. 

Another was picked off. With a feral grin, Robin slew a man who noticed the arrow sprouting in his companion's chest. 

Wincing as the target fell from the saddle, an arrow through the eye, causing the men to notice something was going on, Robin sighted and fired with both mechanical ease and precision. 

When none of the enemy moved, Robin climbed slowly from the tree chosen as a vantage point for the short scuffle, if you could call it that. 

The only warning the youth received of an enemy scout was a gentle creak as a bowstring was pulled tight. 

Spinning, dropping to one knee, Robin heard his own arrow sink into flesh the same time he heard the other's arrow sink deep into the tree only recently vacated. 

Something moved to the left of the blindly staring man, and another arrow was fitted to the string. 

"Now, Robin, is that any way to treat your friend?" John walked into the clearing. 

"They were heading out of the valley." Robin said, not apologizing. "Why were they heading _out _of the valley?"

John shrugged. "C'mon. Its time to get our tails outta here. Just in case they weren't the only ones." 

Robin's hawk-like eyes trained on John. "I don't understand." 

"I don't understand many things. Let's get moving. We can puzzle over it tonight, when we're safe."  

John watched the slim figure of his friend nod, looking old, and weary. 

A tent, rolled into a compact little ball, and a bedroll were secured to Robins back. Next to them was his quiver, in easy reach, and in one hand, a bow.   
Men moved through the woods almost silently either side of him. Sometimes they couldn't see each other, such was their power of camouflage. Moving in and out of the shadows at will, they might have looked like lesser immortals. 

Nothing was further from the truth. Grim faced men, all. Grandfathers who had watched their families die, fathers never able to watch their children grow. Boys turned into men too young. 

Setting camp was a long practiced chore. Everyone knew where to go, what to do. This time, they were in a group of pines, the heavy scent they gave off heady, and yet relaxing to the men setting up around them. 

It was almost midnight before Robin made time for a bath. Going alone, as always, the youth once more relied on keen eyesight to guide him to the river flowing a few minutes away. 

Stripping the brown shirt and letting it fall, Robin looked down at a lean body, toned by hard exercise…a lot of it. 

With a sigh, competent hands reached up to begin unclipping the modified breast band. Certain no one was dumb enough to watch, she stripped entirely, bathing in the still warm stream, her mind wandering to happier times, when she didn't have to hide her sex. 

**AN:** Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to write 3 pages without saying 'he' or 'she'?!? Its nigh on impossible! 

Did you notice the "Robin Hood" theme? I thought it'd be fun…and it was, too. 

So, anyway, review! Please, feedback is excellent. And anyone who reviews will probably get a review back, its my way of saying thanks. ^_^


	2. A Noble Deed

**_Twisted Justice_**

****

Chapter 2… A Noble Deed 

Robin had reports of enemy movement from every scout she sent out. Worried for the incoming force, but afraid more for her own men than she was for the men-at-arms, Robin had one man wait at High Falls for the expected force to arrive. 

Having heard the sound of a battle a day ago, she wasn't surprised when the man came back alone. 

"You weren't followed?" She asked him. Her golden, hawk like eyes watching him intently. 

"Don't insult me." He said, with a lopsided grin. 

She tried to return it. Failing, miserably, she turned away. "John!" Her cry rang through the camp, no further. 

"Hold your horses." John muttered, coming forwards. "What's wrong?" 

"They didn't show." She said bluntly. "Do we search for them or wait at Rocky Hollow?" 

"Neither." His own face hardened. "_If_ they're still alive, and _if _they make it to Rocky Hollow, then they'll be tracked. We can't be found." 

Robin ran fingers through hair. "And looking is too dangerous." She put hands on her hips, looking up towards the canopy above. "I can't just leave em." She said finally. Turning, she looked at John. "We've been living like outlaws for how many months? Seven?" 

"Nine." He told her quietly. "Almost ten." 

Lips curling a little, she shook her head. "In that time we've lost more than thirty strong men. We're weakening each day. We _need_ the force that's coming in. Every able-bodied man is another back, another set of hands." 

John blinked. "Nice speech. Doesn't change anything though." 

Robin looked at John. She had known him since she was ten. He was the hunt master's son at Fief Avonsleigh. 

But he didn't know her as anything but Robin, the scrawny, boy-ish looking youth with good eyes, quick hands, and a quicker mind. 

No one did. 

"I'll go." She said after hesitating. 

"Hmm?" John turned back to her. "Go where?" 

"I'll go to Rocky Hollow." She hadn't spoken in haste. She rarely did. It was one thing that had made the older men listen to her. 

"You're insane." He told her flatly, frowning, not sure if she was serious or not. 

Robin shrugged. "I know the valley. If anyone can save their lives, then keep em safe, its me." When John opened his mouth to argue, Robin lifted an eyebrow. Though she might be the leader, without John to back her up, she felt vulnerable. So she now chose not to pull rank. Knowing John, he'd probably shrug it off anyway. "Do we, or do we not need every pair of hands we can get?" She asked him, sharply. 

He nodded, not looking pleased. 

"And am I, or am I not the best tracker and archer?" 

Again, John nodded. 

"And do I, or do I not have the best chance of keeping a group of men safe in this forest?" She continued ruthlessly. 

"By the Black God! Robin, send another, if you must. Don't tell me you're fool enough to leave us?" John looked both surprised and…betrayed. 

"Only for a few nights, until I think its safe to return." Robin told him. "No more than three, I dare say." 

"Do I have a choice?" John asked her bitterly. "What happens if we're attacked?" 

"We haven't been attacked at our campsite in…" Robin squinted. "Three months." 

"Then we'd be about due to slip up, wouldn't we?" John asked her angrily. Suddenly he shook his head. "No, you're right…" He turned to face away from her, composing himself. "Get yourself killed and I'll never speak to you again, d'you hear?" He told her. 

"I'll try my best not to die." Robin told him with a small smile. 

"Well, get going. I'll tell the camp tonight. It's a good days walk to Rock Hollow, if my memory serves me."

"Stay safe." Robin told John, taking up her bow and quiver. Onto her back went a lightweight pack. "And try not to do anything I wouldn't do." 

"Hurry up. I won't rest easy until we have you shooting for our side again."

Robin made excellent time, reaching Rocky Hollow with moonrise. 

Finding her way to the hidden hollow that had given the area its name, she pushed her pack in front of her, going headfirst into a hollow in an old tree. 

Her bow caught, and she had to wiggle a little. When her pack slid forwards, landing with a thump on the ground before her, she had the weirdest urge to grin. Following it, she landed on the soft dirt. Standing, she brushed her hands and knees off, looking around. 

Rocky Hollow it had been called. A cavern said to once house Weiryn, god of hunt. A tree grew before the hole, planted their by the god himself, to guard his home. Someone had carved through it, so it was the only way in, or out. A good hiding spot, if the enemy didn't know of it. 

Robin was certain the mercenaries didn't. 

She set up her meager camp, spreading her bedroll, setting her provisions to the side. Taking her bow and quiver, she turned towards the tunnel, and began the wiggle up again. 

She would await the party, watching from the tree.

Robin slept nestled against the strong wood, body draped easily across a thick, strong branch. 

Instincts she had lived on for the last—what had John said? —Ten months, almost eleven, made her look down. 

Two figures, shadowed by the gray light of dawn, were moving slowly to her tree. 

One she knew, the other was unfamiliar. As she watched, the familiar figure…the slightly forgetful messenger she had sent for aid, fell. 

She had seen enough of death to know he wouldn't be getting up again. 

Climbing down the tree with such haste she almost fell—and odd thing for her—Robin ignored the other man and grabbed the messenger.

"Travis!" She hissed. "Damn you! What happened?" 

"Robin." He opened one heavy eye. She saw the hasty attempt at a bandage was soaked through with blood. "Git to safety. We're bein' followed." 

"The others." She said insistanly. A cold hand was curled around her heart. The Black God was fast approaching. 

"Ambush." He told her. It was so badly slurred she hardly understood it. 

Clenching her jaw so tightly the bones creaked, she felt all traces of hope for the future disappear. Her small band of outlaws could never live until reinforcements came. "Rest, Travis." Her eyes were dry, hands gentle. "You've earned it." 

"Say goodbye to Joel for me." Robin remembered Joel…Travis' twin. He had died while Travis was on his way to the capital, an arrow clean through his throat. 

"I will." She told him quietly. He smiled at her, and she watched his eyes glaze over. 

It never got any easier to watch…just easier to hide. 

She looked around. A body by the tree would give away their position. As much as she would want to give him a proper burial, she had neither the means, nor the time. Picking him up…not a small feat, as he was fully grown, she carried him to the river near by, walking into the water until she was thigh deep. 

Placing his body into the warm, fast flowing water, she had barely let him go when the sound of footsteps made her heart miss a beat. 

Looking up, she waded out of the water as fast as she could. "Into the tree." She told the other man, tense, knowing the people following weren't far off. 

"What?" He was tired, muddled. 

"The tree!" She hissed. 

A shout of discovery made her want to blister the air with curses. Instead she strung her bow, halting only for a moment. They didn't have time now. She'd have to hope there were only a few men. 

The other man had his back against the old tree. "Some rescue." He muttered, grim, drawing a sword. 

A bloody sword. 

"_You're _supposed to be the rescue." She told him, fitting an arrow to the string, waiting for the men she knew were in the trees to show themselves. "How many?" 

"Travis said more than five." He was looking around warily. 

Robin fired into the gloom. Something fell. 

"Four." She corrected. 

Three men appeared, hard faced men that had seen too many battles and too little love. Robin tried not to think as she shot each down. 

They waited for some time, their back to the tree, until the sun was almost up. "He must've been mistaken." The man said, lowering his sword. Robin lowered her bow, but didn't stop searching the shadows. 

She didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. The fist she knew of the fifth man was a red-hot pain in her back. 

Surprised more than anything, she grunted, being thrown forward from the impact and stumbling as the world tilted. She hit her head hard, but not hard enough to black out. The other man spun, moving so fast his blade seemed to be in two places at once. 

The last man fell, his head a few meters from his body. 

Robin tried to get up. The world swam. The man dragged her roughly to her feet. "In the tree." She told him. Her voice was light, and she couldn't seem to see straight. "The hollow. There's a cave…" She stopped speaking as he began to haul her towards the tree. 

"What?" He asked her. "Show me!" Later Robin would recognize the command in his voice, know he was noble born from that alone. She put her head into the tunnel, but couldn't seem to make her arms work. Using her legs against the rough inside, she shoved her way down. 

She never remembered hitting the bottom. 

"Ah, gods." She opened one eye a crack. She felt like death. 

_Nope, definitely alive_. She thought dryly. _No way death would hurt like this. _

"Are you the only one left?" Her eyes flew open and fixed upon the man's rough face. 

"I hope not." She told him, sounding more than a little miffed. 

"Where are the others, then?" His voice was cool, eyes flat. 

"About a day's walk away." Easing herself into a sitting position, she sighed at the pounding at her temples eased. "We could only risk one man. We knew you'd either be dead, or followed." 

He raised an eyebrow, something she had always found incredibly annoying. 

"What?" She didn't feel like arguing with him. He was supposed to be helping them, not contradicting her! She expected something about safety in numbers. 

"Men?" He asked silkily. 

_Oh no._

She shut her eyes. He had to remove her shirt to bandage her back. She frowned a little, moving her shoulders. Feeling no bandage, she wondered if she's imagined the cut. 

"You're lucky I'm a healer." He told her. 

Well, that explained it. "Why didn't you heal Travis?" She asked suddenly. 

"I tried." He told her. Looking away, she thought she saw a flicker of shame. 

Not knowing what to say, she grasped at a straw. "What's your name, then? We never got around to introductions." 

"Lord Kale." His voice was flat. "Of Avonsleigh." 

_Not yet._ She thought savagely. Something about him just rubbed her the wrong way. "I'm Robin." 

His brow quirked. "Well, Robin, when do we leave?" 

She didn't have to think about that. "Nightfall." She said. "There might be more men." 

He sighed. Settling back against the rocky wall, he turned his head ever so slightly to face her. He wasn't a handsome man, but he had a certain something about him that she was sure would have the ladies falling at his feet. "Why, then, Robin. It seems we have a few hours for you to explain to me why, exactly, you are dressed as a man. Or, disguised." 

Robin's golden, hawk-like eyes hardened. _Because people know me as a woman. Because I was running scared. Because I can't face my heritage any more. _"Safest." She told him shortly. "Would you care to be the only woman in a group of men?" 

"So no one knows?" He looked surprised. 

"No." She told him shortly. She felt like doing anything but speaking. "And I'll be keeping it that way." 

"Is that a threat, mistress?" He asked quietly, a dangerous gleam in his eye to match her own. 

"Yes." One word filled the silence, reverberating. 

He gave her a guarded look, one she either couldn't, or wouldn't decipher.   

**AN:** oops, sorry, it appears I uploaded the wrong document last night. I'd blame it on the time but I wasn't late, so my only other excuse is I'm distracted. More than normal. Hrmmm. 

So, um, yeah, read, review, and I love all you reviewers (especially whoever pointed out my mistake. Thanks!!) next time I'll do individual thanks, not I gotta run. 

 Elisse.   


	3. Lord Kale of Avonsleigh

**_Twisted Justice_**

****

Chapter 3…Lord Kale of Avonsleigh 

Robin slid soundlessly through the shadows. Kale, much to her surprise, and annoyance, knew how to move undetected. Why she begrudged him this she had no idea. It made her job easier. 

When he stopped a meter or so away, Robin halted, too. She mightn't like him, but while they had a common enemy, she could tolerate him. 

"False alarm." He told her, with a small half-smile. He was speaking somewhere to her left, not being able to pinpoint her location. 

"Better safe than sorry." She recited her mother's favorite saying, started forwards again. 

When they reached the camp—It was spelled so Robin could see past the protective circles—she shook awake one of the guards, none too gently, whispering to him about enemy soldiers and cold knives.

Satisfied he wouldn't fall asleep until his next watch, Robin sent him to get a mage to make an opening in the circle. 

Leading the surprised Kale into the camp, she passed him onto another man, asking him to see to a tent and food for their newest member. 

She then sought out John. 

"Little John!" She called, grinning. It was early morning, and he was sitting at a fire, a bowl of soup in large, competent hands. 

"Hey there Robin." He sent her an easy smile. "Grab some soup and tell us why you're alone." She saw worry glittering in his brown eyes, or she might've teased him a little. 

Doing as bid, she told them about Travis, and Lord Kale. When she was done, John was quiet for a moment, then said, "so he assumes he can just walk on in there and 'Lord' Finn will just…give it up?" Because he's a _noble_?" 

"He didn't hesitate to slaughter the rest of the Avonsleigh nobles." Someone put in. 

Robin ducked her head, pretending fatigue. She didn't want to be present when they discussed the first time the mercenaries had rode in. 

"I'm going to go catch some shut-eye before we have the meeting." She told John, not having to fake a yawn. 

"See ya then, Robin." He turned back to the tale unfolding before him, one they were all familiar with, yet never stopped repeating. 

She stood in the center of the clearing. Men sat on the ground, lounged in trees, or against them, talking amongst themselves. It was the whole camp. 

At her side stood John, her other side stood Tuck, a former acolyte for the Mithran Temple. The group affectionately referred to him as "the good Friar". 

Kale stood to one side of John, looking noble even in the plain clothes he wore. He was a striking man, almost primitive. His jaw was square, dark stubble covering it. His eyes were a delicate hazel, eyebrows heavy, giving him a permanently brooding look. Robin guessed his age to be somewhere in the mid-twenties, but even now he had faint, delicate scars cris-crossing across his face. 

"Who's in charge?" He called over the gentle noise. 

Someone pointed vaguely in Robins direction. He looked at John, raised an eyebrow in that infuriatingly elegant way of his. "Bit young, aren't you, lad?" He said dryly. 

John grinned at him, not an entirely pleasant grin, either. "Robin's in charge. I'm second." He told the lord. 

Only his eyes showed surprise when he looked at the willowy youngster. "Got a problem with that, yer lordship?" Someone asked, threateningly. 

Robin held up her hand, calling for silence. "Lord Kale was unaware of my…status." She said, soothingly. "Can you blame him for it?"

Someone snorted. "Only if he hasn't seen you shoot, track, or climb." He said, under his breath. 

"How did you get to be leader?" He asked, challengingly. "What right do you have to command these men?" 

Robin's hawk-like face darkened slightly. She stepped towards him, lent to whisper in his ear. "Challenge me away from my men, lord. Don't mistake me for a soft lady." 

He shifted, looking her in the eye, totally unreadable. "Fine. Tell me what happened to the Fief." 

"Mercenaries came." Someone said. "Killed the nobles, mostly all the townsfolk. Them who live still aren't free. Slaves, they are, with masters as cruel as they come." He spat. "_Lord_ Finn has more'n sixty men, war-hardened and cold killers. That's aside from the patrols huntin' us." He looked at Robin. "His doin' we're still alive at all. Finer instincts I've not seen in my years." 

Lord Kale looked at Robin. Then the men gathered. "How many of you?" He asked shortly. 

"Twenty four." Robin told him. "Not enough." 

"Are there any unguarded ways into the Fief?" 

"No." Robin told him, flatly. There was…it was a lie. But it was suicide without at least double their number, and Robin had, if nothing else, a healthy sense of self-preservation. "We've no option other than the quick, hit-and-run attacks. Even with a hundred men, we'd have trouble getting past the walls." 

"I'll contact the palace mages soon, then. More men will be on their way within a few days." 

"For now we'll keep up our system." Robin told them, taking over. "I've heard there'll be another ambush needing to be planned tomorrow, so rest well." With a half-smile, she watched in silence as the men all stood to leave. John stayed back with her and Kale. 

"Don't ever question Robin in front of the men." John rounded on him, eyes glittering. "Whether you're a noble or a commoner means nothing here.

"I do believe Robin will stand up for—himself." Kale told him, standing taller. "If you don't mind, I'd like to clear up a few matters with Robin." When John didn't budge, he said icily "in _private_."

John opened his mouth to say, I do mind! But Robin grabbed his arm, sending him a scolding look. "I fight my own battles." She told him angrily. "Or don't you believe I can?" 

He looked at her for a long moment. "I won't be far." He told her. Sending a look full of malicious promise to Kale, he left quietly. 

"Don't." Robin held up her hand to stop him from speaking. Something about this man got under her skin. She wasn't a cruel person, and didn't enjoy inflicting pain. 

Yet she would love to hurt him. 

"I want to make one thing clear. _I_ am the leader here. Questioning me in front of my men is not only rude and stupid, it also plants doubts in their minds. Men fight well when they have unflagging faith. I have that." 

"Let me make one thing clear, girl." He said quietly. "I have the rank, the king behind me. The fief is mine. These men, the pitiful resistance are mine. Don't stand between me and my belongings."

"You arrogant pig." Robin said quietly. "Don't expect me to save you next time." 

"And don't count on my help again." He told her quietly. 

"I lead these men until they say otherwise." She resisted the urge to strike him. "You're new, here. I've forgiven you once. I'll overlook this time. Next time, your out by yourself." 

She turned to leave, temper bring a glow to her cheeks and a light to her eyes. 

He watched her go, wondering. How could someone of common birth have such… confidence? Arrogance. Maybe it was just the way she walked. The pride, the stead fast, unflagging surety of her position. 

_She'd do even Queen Thayet proud._ Lord Kale thought, a touch savagely. _The bearing of a queen, the soul of a pacifist, the heart of a fighter._

Disgusted at the thoughts, he turned and walked towards his tent. 

Kale, tired and ravenous, was up with the sun the next day. He found the group gathered. Each man—and Robin, he thought, with some amusement—carried a bow, a full quiver of arrows, and a hunting knife. 

"Whats going on?" He asked. It hadn't meant to come out as an order. By the look on John's face, it did. 

"We're going to get our hands dirty, thin out the ranks a little." Robin told him coolly, her tone impersonal and uncaring. "Care to join us?" 

He looked her over, noting the way she held the men's attention easily, the way she positioned herself unconsciously, her body language. 

A wolfish gleam lit cold eyes. "Love to." He said shortly. He couldn't remember seeing her shooting the men in the clearing. He'd been too stunned by the way she'd dealt with the death of one of her men. Now, he'd get to see her in action. 

Robin saw the gleam, ignored the heat of anger. "Go get armed." She told him shortly. "I'll explain on the way there." 

He sat in a tree, a bow in hand, arrow fitted to the string. The plan was simple. Robin fired first. When a man fell, they picked them off carefully until the deaths were noticed. 

Then, they slaughtered them. 

It annoyed Kale that he couldn't see Robin. He wanted to be able to criticize her later. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he looked down the embankment at the wary men. An arrow flew through the air. A man at the back slumped. It passed through his neck. 

_Damn._ He thought viciously, a newfound respect lighting his eyes. Almost instantly anther man fell, the arrow coming from the same place. Kale couldn't pick the tree, or know for certain it was Robin, but he'd swallow his bow whole if one of the men had broken her command. After travelling with them, he had a taste of the respect they had for her.

Someone noticed the fallen man. With a muttered oath, Kale saw the rain of arrows kill almost every man instantly. They might've had little official training, but these men knew how to shoot. 

They each cleared out quickly, meeting back at the designated spot before proceeding to the camp, in case they were followed. 

They made their way back to the camp after a quick head count and a quick praise from Robin. 

When she looked at Kale, her hawk like face was calm. She walked beside him easily. "The men need to see a strong front." She told him, when he looked at her questioningly. "We cannot fight in front of them. As curtsey, in future, can you refer to me with any questions, please?" 

He shrugged easily. "Sure." He told her carelessly. "I spoke to one of the mages." He told her. "They're sending a group of the Queen's Riders and the King's Own to help out." 

Sudden hope lit Robin's eyes. She turned away quickly to conceal it. "Thank you." She said politely. He calm voice was at odds with the rush of gratitude he had glimpsed on her features. 

"Does Avonsleigh mean so much to you?" He asked, something niggling at him. 

She shrugged, still not looking at him, her hair swinging forward to hide most of her face from view. "Its more the constant running." She told him. He heard a touch of bitterness in her words. Here was a woman who stood her ground. "I—I can't help but think of it as the cowards way out, even though it'd be suicide to stand out ground and fight." 

"Sometimes death is easier to bear." He said, quietly. 

She glanced at him sharply. "You see a lot, my Lord." 

He shrugged, but didn't deny it. "Many would think it a gift. In truth, it is anything but." 

Robin looked away again, but this time not to hide her face, but to scan the trees around them, an habitual precaution. "I think I can understand." She gave him a sideways smile. He realized it was one of the first he had had directed at him. It softened hard features, warming her eyes. "So, what did you do to become Lord of Avonsleigh?" 

He sent her a half-smile back. "Took an arrow for my king." He told her. 

She blinked. "An arrow?" She asked, surprised. 

"Through the shoulder." His smile turned coy. "Maybe you can see the scar sometime." 

"I've seen scars before." She told him, seeing the offer, refusing it. 

"Shame." He said, under his breath. He knew suddenly the only way to break Robin, to bring her to heel, was to dominate her first physically. 

It wasn't going to be an easy task, he knew.

But he liked a good challenge. 

**AN:** As mentioned in my other fic, my muse has been temporarily misplaced. So if the chapters are short and boring, I'm sorry. I didn't think the last one was that bad, though it wasn't top quality, it was necessary. 

Oh, and while I have your attention, *coughs pointedly* anyone know how many are in a squad? 

**Reaya:** No Alanna in this fic. Though some other nobles we know might show up. And the Robin Hood thing is fun! Fun fun fun. I might do a Cinderalla one too. *giggles* next one maybe. I've done an assassin one, a time-warp one, a songfic, and a fairy tale. Hmmmm. And I appreciate your honesty. 

Thanks for the reviews, I love you all!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

~Elisse


	4. Vulnerable Instincts

**_Twisted Justice_**

**_Chapter 4…Vulnerable Instincts _**

Robin sat by the fire, alone. It was a cold night, the moon high in the sky. The camp was silent, giving her the illusion of solitude. 

But then, was she ever, really not alone? She felt alone surrounded by her men. She sometimes was glad it was so. It saved her getting emotionally linked to the others, to some extent. 

The last coals glowed steadily. She felt oddly vulnerable in the darkness. The silence of the night seemed to embrace her, the blackness seductive. She longed to leave. To live. Something was dying inside of her, the lie that she was seemed so pointless, so petty. 

Robin had the instincts of a natural born hunter, honed finely after months of being hunted. Knowing in her gut something was wrong, she looked around. A tall, silent shape seemed to be gliding towards her. She knew the shape well. Kale dogged her footsteps the past week. He was at her side every waking hour, and more, it seemed. 

But he wasn't the source of her unease. Looking deeper into the shadows, her eyes fell on something that she knew didn't belong their. "Awake!" She called, her voice pitched so even those sleeping the sleep of death would hear, and obey. "Enemy!" Moving swiftly, she picked up a staff that lent next to the near by tent in time to block the blow aimed for her head. She felt it rolling down her arms, the force spreading through her body like waves, sharp pain lacing almost delicately in its path. 

Kicking out, she caught the man in the groin, and he fell. Men were stumbling from tents, wide-eyed and armed. She felt a rush of pride as they fought with the men who fell upon them. 

She pushed back the man who had engaged her. The light was almost non-existent, the footing unsure. Not having time to even consider thanking the gods for her sharp eyes and excellent balance, she swung the staff with very little technique. 

Her opponent fell. Fanciness hardly mattered when you were hitting heads, did it?

It was quick. Within moments, the whole camp was up, fighting, defending what they had left. And soon the attackers, seeing they were beaten, were once more blending into the shadows. 

"Anyone injured?" Robin called. Exhaustion rolled over her. It was odd...she could walk all day, shoot for hours, yet something about killing up close made her feel so weak. 

"Two dead sentries." Someone reported. Robin didn't have the time or the energy to wonder how they had gotten past the mage's circles. 

"Pack." She said. "We're leaving first light." 

Kale found her watching the embers once more. "Robin." 

It was her name, nothing more, nothing less. His voice held no promises, no warnings. He was tired, as she was. No, he was physically tired. She was drained. It felt like for the last eleven months she had been fighting, running, hiding. And she was so tired, tired of being strong and holding everything in, holding everyone together. The camp was almost silent again now, the men back in their tents, the sentries high in the trees, out of sight of the camp, their senses humming. When Kale sat next to her, touching her, just barely, it was the most natural thing in the world to lean into him, let her head fall onto his shoulder. If she felt any reluctance when he wrapped a more than friendly arm around her shoulders to draw her closer, she ignored it. 

They sat in silence, a semi-dream like state. The smell of death was heavy upon them, overlying the usual smell of wood smoke and men. "Why were you up?" He asked, breaking the heavy, sleepy sound of nothing. 

"Couldn't sleep." She said briefly. "You?"

He wondered fleetingly why she couldn't sleep. Did the deaths play on her mind? Did he? "Same." 

She nodded. Knowing she had to get up, to prepare for the next day, she left the circle of his arms. Now she couldn't afford to be vulnerable. Not because of the men killed, not because of those who needed her, but because she felt something in Kale calling to her, pulling at the barriers so carefully erected. 

The sun would soon be rising. With no idea where the time had gone, Robin began to pull down her tent and pack her belongings. 

It was going to be a long, long day.       

Robin stood wordlessly and took in the news. Her tired brain seemed numb. The two squads promised were two days ride away. The enemy had set up camp on the path they would be using to enter the valley, and they didn't seem to be wanting to move any time soon. 

"Best we gather our bows, then." She knew she wasn't the only one bone-tired. Everyone had gotten little, if any, sleep after the attack three nights ago. They were in no condition to fight. Yet still, they would. They had to. 

"We can't, Robin." Someone told her, dispiritedly. "We've been moving for days. Its suicide." 

"I will not have another bloodbath." She told them, dragging the dregs of her strength about her. "We have fought in worse condition. We can do it now." When no one moved, she picked up a bow, threw it at someone. "Don't make me hound you." Her voice was quiet, clear, and hard as diamonds. She hadn't spoken to them like this since they first formed their group…she hadn't had to. 

Something in her tone…or maybe her eerie golden eyes, got them moving. Men strung bows and shouldered quivers in silence. Today wasn't about bringing down the enemies number. It wasn't to aid the small rebellion, or to punish 'lord' Finn. It was survival. Animal survival that pushed them to move. And later, it was habit that forced them to fire, to rain arrows onto the sloppy, poorly organized camp. 

When Robin fell into the bedroll beside the fire late that night, she found her fingers were bleeding. She had fired almost constantly, defending not only herself but men who were just too bone tired to fight any longer. And then, she had done everything in her power to force them to move, to eat, to set up the tiny, pitiful excuse for a camp. 

Her eyes fell shut. She didn't care any more. 

**AN:** This isnt going to be a long story…maximum of fifteen chapters, and the chapters aren't even decent lengths. Oh, so very, very tired…excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm dead at the computer. Just be grateful I updated at all. 

**Anastasia Silverwind:** thank you for your help with that. I'm glad SOMEONE decided to help. *scowls at unhelpful readers* 

And thanks to **Reaya** as well, one of my best reviewers. ^_^ 


	5. New Arrivals

**_Twisted Justice_**

**_Chapter 5…New Arrivals _**

Robin drummed a tattoo on the branch that was a little nervous, a little annoyed, and a lot bored. She knew the soldiers would be here soon…but _when_?

And Kale, damn him to the arms of the black god, had…

She shook her head, trying to dispel the stubborn thought. The memory of the moment he had held her, when everyone else was asleep, and they were out of sight, tired and feeling more than a little brittle plagued her, almost as badly as the memory of her family dying. 

He had almost kissed her…of that, she was sure. But neither of them had been thinking rationally, both pushed beyond tiredness and exhaustion into a hazy world where everything was warped and fragmented. 

She had put it down to exhaustion. She hated him… arrogant, self-absorbed, pompous, pig headed fool he was. Why, it was a trial just to stand next to him!

She almost missed the sound of hooves. Dropping swiftly from the branch, she tilted her head and sent a shrill whistle that sounded for all the world like the call of her namesake, the robin. 

Unsure if it was friend or foe, she strung her bow. They had camped away from the road, but scouts were posted in wait for the men expected to arrive soon. 

The answering call, though clumsy, almost managed to bring a smile to her hard face. "Ho!" She called. "They're here!"

They had set up camp as blatantly as you please. Robin sat in a circle of men who had the look of born leaders and killers. 

Kale sat at her side, legs stretched out, totally at ease in these surroundings. Robin sat with her back straight and shoulders squared, bow strung beside her. 

So far, all they had done was organize food for the men. 

"You're the leader of the "outlaws" then?" A tall, somewhat gangly looking man asked her. 

"As long as they want me, yes." Robin said, her chin going up in pride. 

"They'll follow you wherever you lead." Kale said, more to those gathered than Robin, though he was addressing her. 

Another man, human giant, with dark brown curls and somber black eyes considered her. "You're young for your charge." He said, but somehow she knew he approved of her. 

"Robin knows the terrain better than any man." Kale said, jumping to her defense. "S—he can shoot better than any I know, and is almost tireless. I would compare him to you, Sir Raoul." 

"Shut up." Robin told him, her golden eyes hard. "You've no need to speak so." 

Sir Raoul cleared his throat. "Master Robin, do you and your people know the enemies numbers and position?" 

Robin began to rattle off information, not having to think about what she said. She had gone over the facts night after sleepless night trying to find a hope for her people. 

When she was silent again, Raoul looked at the gangly man. "You know your stuff." He complimented her so casually she didn't feel at all awkward. "Does someone in your group know the castle?" 

"I do." She told him without thinking, then damned herself. 

He raised an eyebrow. He, like the others, assumed she was a commoner. Few nobles would get their hands dirty so. "Can you draw maps?" He asked her. 

"Sure." She shrugged. 

"Any weak points we can use? Secret tunnels, hidden doors…?" 

"There's a tunnel." She told him. "But its narrow. It would take hours for the men to get through it. Should you wish it, a few could move through with ease, maybe open the gates." 

Kale looked at her with quickly hidden surprise. "Its good to know of." Sir Raoul's voice held only the barest trace of regret. "Could I ask you to draw up a map now, so we can begin to plan?" 

Robin sat under the tree, only a few meters away from the busy, organized camp. It felt odd to see new faces, to be surrounded by men. It multiplied her loneliness, amplified it. Made her aware that she was a stranger, clothed in lies. 

She looked down at the blank slate and wondered when Kale would tell Sir Raoul of her gender. Surely, he having trained with the Lioness, he would not totally discount her…?

Pushing thoughts of loneliness and Kale aside, she took the chalk and with strong strokes, began to map the castle and surrounding fields, stopping only once to wonder fleetingly what it would feel like to enter the fief again.

When she was done, she arched her back, stretching. The slate before her held a detailed map to scale of Avonsleigh. 

"You've a head for details." Kale said from behind her. She almost gasped, but remembered she was a man, and turned with a scowl. 

"Next time I'll make you a pincushion." She rested a rough palm on her unstrung bow, the wood smooth and inviting beneath her hand. 

"But not a cool head." She twisted the other way. The tall, gangly man leant on the other side of the tree. 

"Usually Robin's as calm as you like." Kale told him with a half grin. "I get under his skin." 

"Milord." Robin passed the slate to the gangly man, not patiently. She sent Kale a searing look. 

"Thank you." The man looked closely at the map. "Its better than the one we have, better than even I could wish." 

"Its not just you who I'm helping." Robin reminded him. 

The three of them walked over to the group of men sitting discussing tactics. Robin sat, and the gangly man passed the slate to Raoul. He looked at Robin with appreciation. 

Before the words were out of his mouth, a horn call sounded. The dark tones rang off the valley walls, echoing. The gangly man let loose a chain of expletives. Robin stood, strung her bow. 

"What do we do?" A man called, his face grim. 

"Wing it." Raoul called, the light of battle in his eyes. 

"Archers, to the trees!" Robin called, her voice carrying over the sound of hooves, more like thunder than the steady drum roll many would have expected. 

"Into your lines!" Raoul unsheathed a long, heavy sword. "Surround the camp!"

"Hold the fire!" Robin's voice didn't carry as well as Raoul's, but it didn't have to. The men she had been with for almost a year knew. She steadied herself, bracing her legs and fitting an arrow to her bow. 

When the first man came into view, Robin felt the anger and hurt flare. They would be crushed, and all she had worked for, all she had dreamt of, lived and lied for, would be lost, left to rot in the center of the road. 

Kale stood by her side, sword in hand. He waited in silence, eyes hard. 

They were closing fast. Robin could almost feel the men in the trees picking targets, itching to shoot, nerves jangling. 

She released an arrow. The first man fell from his horse. A steady rain of arrows followed her own. Few men got past the archers defense to the circle of men. 

A man was riding straight for Robin and Kale. Robin's focus narrowed to the one person, moving in his saddle, with the horse. In one hand he held a heavy, double sided war axe. The other hand held a mace. 

She loosed the arrow. Even as it sank into his chest, a knife was buried deep in his neck. 

The raw skin on Robin's fingers opened and bled, yet the bow was true and the arrows flew straight. 

It was over in the blink of an eye. It was over in a century. 

Robin titled back her head, let out a whistle. In the time it took for a man to climb form a tree and move to her, she was surrounded by silent men. 

"John," She singled him out. "We need sentries. Place them in the trees either side of the road, fifty and a hundred meters away. The rest of us will clean up." 

She unstrung her bow and drew a hooked hunting knife, her orders carried out in silence. "Hold." Raoul called. Her men didn't take any notice. "Master Robin, hold your men!" 

"Hold!" Robin called. She turned back to Raoul, angry and impatient. There could be men in the trees, wounded suffering. 

"Your archers have done enough. We can take it from here." His sword was barely blooded. Many weren't even wet. 

She gave him a shallow bow. "I appreciate your concern, my lord, but my men know the area. Yours don't." 

"Then your sentries may go." He looked at the archers John had assigned to sentry duty. They looked to Robin. 

"Go." She told them. Again, they moved away in silence. 

"You know what to do." The gangly man said. He led a group of men and they began checking the dead, giving the mercy stroke where it was needed, piling bodies in the center of the road for burning.

"I see how you've survived so long." Raoul came up to her, sword still bare in his hand. 

"We all learn when we have to." She didn't bow this time. 

"I told you they follow Robin and no other." Kale told Raoul. 

He nodded, watching Robin with interest. "You have good men, master. And a steady hand." Robin looked down at her bleeding hands, her bow, smeared with her own blood, still bright red. 

"We should move." She said bluntly. "Word carries fast in Avonsleigh. The sound will have been heard in the fief." 

"We'll stay." Raoul looked around. "For one thing, we couldn't hope to hide a group of this size. For another, if your numbers are accurate, they just lost almost half their men, and we suffered not a single casualty." He looked once at her hands, face impassive. "Thanks to your archers." 

"We fight for the land." She accepted the compliment with a bow. "And we will—as many have—die for it." 

"Lets get this over with." Raoul nodded out to the see of men. "Time enough for talk then." 

Robin set off, Kale beside her, to clean up the mess left from the massacre.        

**AN:** Hey, sorry so much about the lax in my updating, the net was down. 

Gotta run, hope you liked the SHORT chapter, and don't forget to review!!!!!  

~Elisse.


	6. Breaking

**_Twisted Justice_**

**_Chapter 6…Breaking_**

They had plotted and schemed for hours it seemed. Now, they were marching. To take back what was always theirs. 

Most men went on foot. Robin had been offered a horse, but declined. She wouldn't put herself above her men. 

Her archers were the best sentries they could have hoped for, bringing back their kills as well as news. 

"Over this rise." Robin pointed to the tip of a hill, the road wide and flat. "Is the fief. We'll be in clear view from here." 

Raoul just nodded, shifting a little in the saddle. A cool, autumn breeze moved the paling leaves and made Robin want to shiver. 

Or, that's what she told herself. 

Raoul was the first to crest the rise. The standard bearer held the pennants aloft. There would be no sneaking around in the dark for this group. Raoul stilled when he saw the castle. Men gathered behind him, silent as they looked down. 

Robin moved to the front. Lining the castle's thick, scarred walls were rough men in full war garb. 

"I guess they've had some new recruits while you weren't watching." Raoul said lightly. Across the castle walls were at least a hundred men. Doubtless more waited below. 

"We would have seen them." Robin told him. "That must be all the men on the walls now." 

He rummaged around in his saddle for a moment, withdrew a golden feather from somewhere, and held it over his eyes. "Illusions." He said with a grim smile. "Nothing but air." 

"_Magical _air," the tall gangly man pointed out. 

"Air's air, Evan." Raoul told him.  

"Let's keep going, shall we?" Kale asked dryly. "Set up camp just down a little."

They fell back into their neat, organized columns, began to move along the road. 

Raoul stopped out of bowshot, but the men didn't break away when movement was halted. The huge man tilted back his head and called, "we come to reclaim this land in the name of King Jonathan. Surrender yourselves to the king's justice!"

"That's Finn." Robin pointed out the man moving to the edge of the wall. A rough, badly mannered man with the honor of a snake. 

He replied with a string of curses that made Robin curl her lip in disgust. 

"I hoped he'd say that." Raoul said, to no one in particular. Then: "Set up camp." 

"Tomorrow, we'll break them." Kale told Robin, when she stood, watching the men prowl along the walls. "Today, you need rest." 

"Don't tell me what I need." She said icily. Turning, she went to set up her own tent. 

The enemy may be broken tomorrow…but she was breaking now. 

When Robin awoke that night, she grabbed her bow and quiver, and went to check the sentries. It was a few hours until dawn…until they attacked. Men of the Kings Own and the Queen's Riders slept deeply. Robin's men either napped fitfully or stared into the flames, for all intents and purposes asleep themselves, so deep in the hypnotic dance of the flames. 

Not surprised to find Kale on the outskirts of the camp, Robin sat next to him. He might be arrogant, but he was also the only person who knew what she was…if not _who_ she was. 

He glanced at her. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked. 

"I slept fine." She tucked one leg under her. 

"You look like you've been crying." He persisted. 

"I haven't." She lied easily. "Thanks for the thought, though." 

He was silent. For a long time, they sat in the darkness, the chill damp of the air rising around them. When he did speak, his words made Robin far colder than the weather. "The signet ring for Avonsleigh is missing." He said, standing, stretching stiff muscles. "My bet is Finn has it." 

"Doubtless." She said, her golden eyes half-shut. 

"What were your family like?" Kale asked suddenly, stopping in front of her and taking her hands. 

Robin turned her face away. "Good, honest people." She said quietly. "Kind." 

"You never speak of them." His hands held onto hers tighter than before. 

"They are gone. What is there to speak of?" She snatched back her scarred hands. She didn't want what he was offering her. Didn't want to hope he could find a way to make her buckle. 

"Your parents." One of his hands smoothed over a cheek. "They were not in a happy marriage?" 

"Why?" She couldn't jerk back without loosing her balance and falling over. 

He studied her intently. "You aren't an open person." 

So he thought her parents were the reason she wouldn't fall into his arms, praises on her lips? "Give me a break, Kale. I don't need this." She pushed his hand away, stood and walked off, her steps no more than whispers on the hard ground, her presence fading as fast as her form, oddly delicate.

**AN:** Robin isn't a hard, bitter woman. Not like my other character, Aileen, in **Nothing Personal**, my first fanfic. You'll see. 

**AB-scribere:** Of course the main character has to be female in TP's world. ^_^ And Kale…he's a bit overbearing, arrogant and proud, but he's an ok kinda person. I do agree with the smacking him around part, he needs to be taught humility…and he will be. Thank you…I liked that line myself. I always thought time was an abstract thing. Man can measure it, label it, but it is always…wild? I don't know the word. Intangible, interchanging?

**Reminisca:** thank you. I reccomened people read your fic, so you get some confidence and some drive to continue. So, people, go read **Reminisca's** fic!

Everyone else who reviewed, thank you! Keep reviewing, keep writing…

~Elisse          


	7. I'll take back what was stolen

**_Twisted Justice_**

**_Chapter 7…I'll take back what was stolen_**

Robin sat with her men. Those under her command of Raoul of Golden Lake and Malories Peak, and Evan Larse were easy enough, eating at a speed only soldiers could manage, and talking quietly. 

Robin's men, far from the war-hardened soldiers they were surrounded by, were both pale and resolute. Though they had killed before, it was somehow different from this. 

"We've all seen death." Robin said, more to fill the gaping silence than any other reason. "We all know how it feels to kill. To have someone dear killed. That's why we'll fight when the sun rises." She had their full attention. Was she supposed to be a rousing speech? She didn't know if she had the heart to. "If we want the land back, we _must_ fight." Robin stumbled along, speaking with deliberation partially to disguise the fact it was unplanned and off the top of her head, and partially to stop her from making some kind of idiotic blunder. "It won't be a romantic fight to sing of. There will be all too much death and suffering. A sword through the guts has little glory." She lost her train of thought for a moment, then found a new vein. "But…even if we fall…" She had to swallow the lump in her throat. "Even if Finn still holds Avonsleigh, we will have tried our best, and Mithros will have been witness." She sent a hasty prayer that the god would be watching. 

She might not have the men on their feet, war cries on their lips, but they looked…steadier. Calm and ready, and more than capable to face what they had to.

The first rays of sun that morning weren't the pale, weak rays Robin has expected, but a dramatic bloody red, as though even the sun was preparing for the coming battle. 

With the first strong rays, Robin met Raoul's eyes across the meters that stretched between them. 

The King's Own stood in formation, ready to attack. Men stood braced, a thick tree held in their hands. The walls were thick, but the gate was old. It would fall.

She brought her hands to her quiver, took an arrow in scarred fingers. Fitting it to the string, she glanced once over the archers flanking her. 

She picked her target, an official of some sort, squinting down at them, blinded by the first rays of light. She loosed her arrow. 

It all happened so slowly, like time suddenly turned to thick honey. She watched as it moved in a perfect arc towards the target. She saw the surprise flash across his features. She thought she saw his eyes darken. He flinched a little, then sagged, an arrow in his chest. In the last few seconds she imagined that she met his eyes. His were filled with shock, while hers were cold. 

Then time snapped back to normal. The sound of arrows being loosed filled the air. 

A few of Evin Larse's men ran along the line with torches. Across her line, Robin's men were dipping their arrowheads into oil then lighting them on the torches. They flew through the sky, burning tracks across the heavens.

Tears dribbled down Robin's cheeks unnoticed. Avonsleigh wouldn't burn, she knew. The fire-protection spells had been done by a man called Numair Salamin, one of the most powerful sorcerers this side of the emerald ocean. 

But…

It was everything to her, her heart and soul, and more. Her heritage, her families past, her own future. She had grown stalking the kitchens, the stables. Later she had been put to work, but she would never forget those years spent learning every nook and cranny of not just the castle, but all the surrounding territory. 

How could she forget it, when the innocent knowledge had surely saved her life, and the lives of others, time and time again?

Suddenly reality snapped back. The tree held by the King's own hit the gate. The sound was less than satisfying, overridden by the twang of bowstrings. They were now being answered by enemy archers. 

Someone shoved a shield in front of Robin, the sound of an object hitting the metal surface made her skin go cold. She looked down to see a broken crossbow bolt. 

"No time for tears." Kale held the shield. She should have guessed. 

"What're you doing here?" Robin asked, fitting an arrow to her string and trying to push thoughts of enemy crossbows out of her mind. Kale lowered the shield enough for her to shoot. Three arrows later she gave him a chance to raise it. Angrily she dashed away-unwanted tears. 

"Why're you crying?" He asked her. When her golden eyes met his, he fell silent. He had been across the lands…yet the stillness in her own eyes would have brought him to his knees, had she not looked away. 

"It's personal." Had she said that before? She couldn't recall, but she knew he had seen more than she had waned to show…in her eyes and in her words.

"I've realized." He lowered the shield and she fired a quick volley. "Avonsleigh is your home?" 

"Yes." She looked at her fingers, the scars already rubbed raw. 

"Once I'm lord…" he trailed off. She felt the fast and fiery denial on the tip of her tongue, but forced it down. "Robin?" Kale asked, tentatively. She looked down. In one hand she held an arrow, the point a whisper away from his shirt. 

How did that happen?

She fitted the offending arrow to the string but didn't draw it back until Kale lowered the shield once more. 

"You'll always be more than welcome here Robin." He had been passing her arrows, but she hardly noticed, so intent was she on the men on the walls, falling, then being replaced. 

"Well that makes it all OK." She said bitterly, kneeling to pick a fallen arrow up.

When she stood and met Kale's eyes, she regretted the sour reply. He looked hurt, though he quickly covered it. She realized then he had saved her life, and had been talking to her like she was a close friend. 

She tried to choke out an apology through the up rush of emotion, but couldn't.

He saw it on her face, and it was enough. His free hand touched the corner of her lips, and then fell to his side. 

The unspoken communication shook her more than she cared to admit. Yet they both knew that Kale's offer still stood, and that Robin was both sorry and forgiven. 

She swayed a little towards him, his hand sliding to her, to pull her against him. 

Robin stepped away, shaken. "Maybe at a more suitable time." Kale said, the sound of crossbow bolts hitting the shield not covering his voice. 

"Maybe." Robin fitted an arrow to her bow, fired, then repeated the process mechanically. _Maybe?_ Her mind screamed at her. _Sure, you're upset, but I just gave him false hopes of a future together…Has the battle gone to my head?_ Robin shook the head in question, attempting to clear it. Men no longer manned the walls. Or, not where they were vulnerable. 

"They had to withdraw sooner or later." Kale said, seeing her mildly disappointed look. Surely killing was easier to face than this. 

"The gate's about to buckle, Robin." John's familiar voice drew her gaze to the old gates. It was, indeed, almost ready to buckle. She felt a pang of loss, and buried it for another time. A gate was a gate, regardless of how much history was behind it. 

"Maybe now'd be the time to take that secret passage." Kale said, as she slung her bow over her shoulder and hefted her staff. He had seen her fight with it before—and had been glad she kept to long distance weapons.

She agreed with both of his views, though she didn't know the second, they were her own thoughts. "I can't take the passage." She told him. "Its too far away now to be of any use." 

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Then he'd be watching out for both himself and Robin.

She watched the tree trunk hit the gates. They sagged, almost off their hinges. Robin led her men forward so they were but ten meters from Sir Raoul's group. 

"Get your bows ready!" Robin called, as Raoul's group rallied again for the final blow on the gate. A few of the men weren't fast enough. The gates fell, and those who lingered were crushed. Robin and a few other archers were all that stopped the men from holding the pine tree from being slaughtered. 

The enemy had waited by6 the gate and now they attacked. "We can't blame 'em for not going down without a fight." John gasped from beside Robin and Kale. "It's not like we nicely, waiting for the axe to fall, is it?" 

Robin didn't have a chance to answer. If these men were illusions, then illusions could kill. The King's Own were being driven back. Kale swore and left Robin's side. His hand ran along her arm as he left in an unspoken farewell, understood by both parties. John saw it, but was too busy to comment or even privately puzzle. When the men became too mixed together, the neat ranks in tatters, Robin found it hard to pick targets. She would rather not shoot than run the risk of killing an allied soldier. 

So she let her bow fall across her back, took up her staff, and made her way into the fray. She had been the last archer to continue to fire, the targets too uncertain for others long before. 

_Finn_. The image flashed before her eyes, though the man was nowhere to be seen. Robin cast her eyes over the battle. She was nigh-on useless in close range. Plus, she had a personal score to settle with Finn. 

Beneath the leather vest and the sweat-soaked shirt with its sleeves rolled high, even beneath the breastband that threatened to come undone was something heavy. It was attached to a tarnished silver chain, and it seemed to burn her skin. 

She brought her staff around in time to save her neck, though a thick chunk of wood was knocked loose. 

Robin brought her leg up in a kick. Even if most nobles thought hand-to-hand combat was beneath them, Robin was glad of it now. And besides, when you're out weighed, out maneuvered, and generally fed-up, what's so wrong with a little kicking or punching? 

Her opponent doubled over, clutching his groin. She swung her staff around and broke his nose. Looking around, she saw Kale at the other end of the courtyard. He grinned at her, having seen her defend herself. She attempted to look down her nose at him. And he had thought she needed looking after! 

Then her blood ran cold as a man approached Kale, unhindered, from behind. 

She saw the arrow bloom in the center of his chest, found she held her bow in her hands. Kale met her eyes, and the fear she had seen in them would have turned her even colder, if such a thing was possible. Had she thought she was aiming at him? And could she really blame him, if he had? After all, she had spent more than a few hours coming up with creative methods of torture for him. 

The he glanced over his shoulder, and saw the dead man. 

When he tried to find Robin, she was gone.  

**AN:** I'd like to blame my slack updating on YOU SLACK REVIEWERS (hint hint) but I'm officially banned from my computer, which means I have to write it free hand at home, then type it up in class when my teacher isn't watching. *checks over shoulder for teacher* and for those of you who read both my current stories, I'll have an update on the 8th, latest. 

Gotta run, um, thanks to Ab-scriberer and PsychoLioness for the reviews. No Dom in this series, he's off charming Kel. And Yep, Raoul was kinda grinning….that was exactly what I wanted you to see.                           


	8. The Fake Lord

**_Twisted Justice_**

Chapter 8…The Fake Lord 

Robin would have said she'd flown away from the courtyard, but she felt her feet hitting the ground like lead…and there was no one in the corridors to speak to, so she didn't. 

Her bow – her fathers, and his fathers before him, and so on – hung ready in her hand as she jogged down the hallways. 

The feeling of homecoming was soured by the smell of death that seemed to rise from the ancient stone, and was diluted by the feeling of change. This place had very little of the old Avonsleigh. About the only thing unchanged were the walls and the stones in them. Any valuable item, and many invaluable ones had been either taken, sold, or destroyed. 

Hadn't she expected it? Robin had to admit, she had known it would change. But she had known with her head. Her heart had still expected to find everything as it had been, her mother waiting for her patiently, her father dozing before the fire. Her older brother pulling childish faces. 

But…there was nothing. 

It was so desolate. Without the sounds of the fief humming happily around her…she wondered how Finn could stand it. It was barren, lifeless, and in her eyes, almost worthless now. 

The pain was both greater and less than she had expected. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or stand frozen with shock. Everything inside her was so…muddled. 

No, not everything.

Burning hotter, higher than any other emotion was the solid feeling of frustration. Her gut wasn't knotted by it – it felt solid, as though it had been filled with cold steel. White hot anger pulsed through her veins. Now, the confusion was forgotten, and the only thing that existed was her burning fury. 

Her feet faltered. Her muscles were clenched in her rage.

She forced herself to relax. It wasn't easy to run with every fiber of your body held tight. 

Her feet carried her along a path she once walked a hundred times a week: to the indoor training yards, where she would pretend to sew while watching the men. She took un-armed fighting lessons. She also did archery and riding…but not staff- or sword-fighting. 

She stilled, looking around. The indoor courts were well lit, one side opening onto a garden. Why she had come here was beyond her. She had followed her feet. 

_Time to start following my head._ She thought, as was almost drowned by a thick wave of depression that swamped her. 

Yet, it was a few moments before she could force herself to move.

The castle wasn't empty. She turned a corner and almost died upon an enemies naked blade. She slung her staff out to block it just in time. Never would she be able to face little John in the next world if she'd been slain by chance, after all her close calls. 

She bought one fist up to punch the enemy solider, neatly breaking his nose. He grunted, surprised. By the smell, he was deeply in his cups. 

Robin freed her staff and hit him between the eyes with its butt – he fell, more from the force than her correct technique. She stepped over him. He wouldn't move for a feew hours, at the earliest. Not that her future seemed to matter now. She had been brutally reminded of her own mortality by the soldier. Now she realised she had little chance against a hardened warrior like Finn. 

She moved along the passages like a wraith. The stone walls of the keep seemed to be closing in on her, after being so long with just natures walls, and the flimsy walls of the tents. 

She took an arrow from the quiver slung over her back. When she ran her palm along it, checking its quality, it felt slick. She glanced down. 

The scarring on her fingers was broken and was bleeding, only a little, but enough to make her grip precarious.  Taking another few steps, she walked into the room her mother secretly called the 'dust collector's room'. Robin looked quickly around. High windows illuminated the room. It was indeed dusty, though in Robin's memory it never had been. The usual collection of a nobleman's armor, blades, and tapestries inspired by some bloody battle or another adorned the walls. Against either wall there were long pits. Once flowers had grown in them, a sort of indoor garden, clashing horribly with the warrior's times on the walls. Now the pits were filled with coals, glowing brightly. 

Robin hardly noticed. Her eyes were trained on a man sitting on a roughly carved throne-like chair. He was arguing with someone, but anger didn't register on stone-cold features. He was a man of icy control. 

Robin knew he had an icy heart as well. 

She swung the bow easily up and shot the man not on the 'throne'. Anyone who tolerated such a man as Finn, sitting disdainful as any king upon his cheap seat deserved a worse death.

Finn turned towards her. 

She had entered by a side door, not the main one. Now she had given up the advantage of surprise. But she didn't want to surprise him…she wanted him to know why he was dying, and at who's hand. So she didn't mourn the lost advantage. 

"Keeping well I see." Robin let the bow hand causally to her side. "What a shame." 

"Leave, boy." Finn looked her up and down. "Go back to hiding behind your mother's skirts." 

Robin took a step towards him. "You don't know me, then? You don't remember?" She lazily took an arrow from the quiver on her back. 

Finn stood, his hand going to his sword hilt in an automatic gesture. "Remind me." He said, quietly, eyes hooded. 

"You killed my family." She said, her voice breaking with barely concealed emotion. Her arrow was fitted to the string. 

"Well, that narrows it down." Finn replied icily.

"Robin!" Robin turned her head to look for the caller. A dagger missed her by cenimeters. Had her breasts been unbound, it would have hit her. 

Instantly she forgot the caller, her attention snapping back to Finn. "You…snake!" She fought to keep from shaking with rage. "You take my father's place by force. You hunt me through lands that should be mine, enslave people I should be protecting." Her hands, steady now, released the bow. Quickly she took the necklace from under her clothes. It, and the ring on it, came into sight. 

"Ah." He looked at her for a moment. She wondered fleetingly is he was going to throw another dagger. "Lady Marion, is it?" He frowned, stepping closer. "You you're the youth who was leading the pitiful resistance." 

"Give the man a knighthood." Robin muttered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Louder, she said : "You thought I'd just forgive and forget? Thought I'd flee? Thought I'd die out in the wilderness?" 

"You did a pretty good job of fleeing when I killed your…um…" He squinted, as though trying to remember. "Brother, was it?" He shook his head. "No, you begged fist." 

"I begged for his life!" Robin said harshly. Her control snapped. Why bother talking to this monster? 

Finn saw the change in her, and his eyes widened fractionally, as though just realising she was here to kill him. _She_. 

Robin loosed the arrow the same time the dagger left his hand. She moved, but not fast enough. It buried itself in her shoulder. 

She hardly felt it as she watched Finn fall to the ground. Her arrow had flown true, through his neck. There would be no King's Justice for him, just Robin's own twisted justice. 

"Robin!" The call held more than a touch of urgency. The buzzing in her head drowned out the sound of Kale's feet as he ran towards her. 

He grabbed her right arm – it was the left shoulder that had been wounded. She licked her lips, trying to focus her eyes. He kept swimming before her. 

Dark blue light, the color of his Gift, streamed from the hand holding her, pushing back the pain. She met his eyes, her head no longer buzzing so much. "Kale…?" 

"Sh." He looked urgently around, as though he expected enemies to jump out from the suits of armor and yell "boo!" Robin saw his sowrd was naked in the hand not holding her. "We can't stay here. You know the castle…where can we go?" 

Robin cast her eyes about. Her brain still worked slowly. "This way." She said, after a moment. Did she sound breathless to him? She took a step, and felt the dizziness come back. He sheathed his sword reluctantly, and lifted her right arm over his shoulder, wrapping his own arm around her waist. She led him past the dead Finn, towards the wall behind. 

"Robin?" She was walking straight at the solid wall. 

"Secret passage." The buzzing was back with a vengeance. She reached the wall. Carefully, she reclaimed her right arm, and pressed a brick, standing on her toes to reach it. A section of the wall swung forwards to admit them into a dark, dusty passageway. 

When her knees gave way, Kale scooped her up and carried her through, into the secret hall. He set her down, then began tearing strips of his shirt for bandages. She was pale under her tan, making her look a sickly yellow, but she was still awake. 

He sent a quick prayer to the gods, took hold of the dagger hilt, and pulled it out. 

Robin fainted. 

She seemed to float above the scene as it unfolded before her. It was a scene she replayed may times in her head, but never had she seen it from this perspective. 

The sound of fighting filled the halls. "Papa!" It was a young woman. She ran into the room, her once pretty skirts covered in fresh blood. Her golden, hawk-like eyes were bright with tears. "Mama—" Her voice shook, and she fell silent as a boy, little older than her, staggered through the door behind her. She spun, catching him before he fell, and looked in horror at the deep cut in his thigh. 

"_Marion!" The girl's father called. His sword, unsheathed, was leveled at a man who entered. Robin recognised Finn as soon as she saw him, but to Marion he was just another mercenary. "Take your brother and go!" Marion's father screamed. _

_"But mama!" Marion didn't cry, fighting hard for control. "She's hurt bad." _

_"Go!" The man yelled. The sound of metal meeting metal filled the room as the mercenary/Finn cut at Marion's father. He stopped that blow, but not the next. _

_Marion watched her father fall. She watched Finn kick her father's body off his blood sword carelessly. "Hello, kiddies." He said slowly, a smile curving his lips, but not warming his eyes. _

_Robin screamed soundlessly. She thrashed against invisible bonds that held her in the air. She couldn't even look away._

_Marion let go of her brother, and darted past Finn. She took her fathers hands in her own. _

_"C'mere, boy. Make it easy on yourself." Finn said to Marion's brother. The girl looked up, saw what was happening. _

_Tears fell down her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet, to her brother's aid. In one hand, she held the Avonsleigh signet ring. In the other hand, she held the Avonsleigh bow. _

_"Don't touch him!" Marion screamed. Her harsh, hawk-like face harder than ever. Finn spun, backhanding her across the face. _

_"Or what?" He taunted. His bloody sword was pressed against her brother's chest, rising and falling with his shallow gasps. _

_"Please." Marion tried to fight back the sobs. "Oh, dear gods, please—" _

_Robin thrashed against the bonds, harder than ever. _

_Finn gutted her brother. _

_Lady Marion had fallen to her knees. Now she stood. While Finn was gloating, she fled, something vital inside her changing, twisting, turning bitter. Robin watched as the young Lady Marion, unusually fiery, but still kind and cheerful, turned into a hard young man who would live a lie, leading the resistance against Finn. _

_Then, the bonds released her, and she spiraled down into blackness. _         

**AN:** By Mithros that was a long chapter. *wipes sweat from brow* or maybe it just feels like it, since I had to write it free hand, and then type it up. Yeah, that must be it. 

Thanks to my ONE reviewer *scowls at everyone but** Anastazia Silverwind**_*_  I know I haven't updated in a while, but honestly, I'm trying to sneak onto the computer, it isn't easy. The ban's been lifted, though, so I'll be updating as usual now! *cheers* 

Now, go review! (pretty please!)

~Elisse      


	9. Options

Twisted Justice Chapter 9…Options 

Robin was out of bed in a few days. Somehow, Kale had managed to keep her gender secret still, even with her being bedridden. 

She had a huge nest of problems to contend with. Kale knew she was the lady of Avonsleigh. She knew there was no way he was going to give up his title, and let her inherit what was hers. So, she stood now on the battlements, her bow unstrung at her side and a quiver across her back, even though she couldn't shoot. Not yet, at least. 

They had to talk, she knew. While he was happy enough to bed her, thinking she was a commoner, she doubted he wanted anything to do with her now, as a rival.

There were still a few pockets of the mercenaries, scattered around the hill country. It would take years of work to make Avonsleigh the same again, not just the castle, but the farms and woods and people. 

"Robin." She didn't turn as Kale lent on the stone next to her, not meeting her eyes. 

"How's the resistance?" She asked him, mindful of the eyes watching them. All the men knew _something_ was between Robin and Kale, what, though, they had no idea.  

"Easing considerably." He straightened suddenly, loosing his negligent stance. "Let's not dance around the fire, Robin. We need to talk." 

Robin turned a little to look at him. "Not here." She said finally. "Let's walk." She told a nearby sentry she was going with Kale, and then led them both into the slightly overgrown gardens. "So?" She asked. 

"Robin, since when have you run from a problem?" Kale lent on a tree, folding his arms. "Lets just lay what we have on the table, and try to find a solution." 

Robin looked around, stalling. When she forced her eyes back to his, she was composed again. "I'm the lady of Avonsleigh. As the last surviving member of my house, I should inherit. But does the grant the king gave you overrule that?" 

He winced. That was being honest, alright. "That's about the root of the problem." He said, finally. "What do you propose we do?" 

"Do?" She asked blankly. "We can't do anything. It's up to our betters to decide. We will need to inform the king of our situation." 

"There is always an option, Robin." She shrugged with one shoulder, and began to stroll deeper into the garden, where it got decidedly wild. 

"There isn't always an option." She told him. 

"No. There _is_ always another way…sometimes, that way isn't what you wanted, though." She led them into the privacy of the wilds, though they were in the castle walls. When she led them into a small covered area, he was surprised. For a moment, he had thought they were back in the forest. 

"Stop avoiding it and just say it." She stood with her back to him, her quiver and bow resting near the entrance of the private little patio. Her arms were crossed loosely, but she was tense.

"You're name was Marion, wasn't it?" He moved up behind her, silently. 

"Yes." She didn't twitch, hearing him so close. If he knew nothing else about her, that would have told him she had been turned hard. 

"Lady Marion." His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders. 

"Yet you still feel you need to dominate me." She pulled away, uncrossing her arms but still facing away. 

"No." He caught her hand. "Robin, that isn't it." 

"Then what, by the Black God, is it?" She turned to him now, the sharp lines of her face holding hurt, anger, and confusion. And maybe, if he looked deep enough into her eyes, just maybe, there was yearning.

He started at her for a moment, wondering. "It's me, Robin, and you." 

"Don't play with me like this, Kale." She warned, quietly. "Don't you _dare_." Yanking her hand free, she scooped up her bow and quiver and was gone, blending into the shadows like a whisper. 

Robin found herself in the stable loft. She had hidden there before…it was her place. Now, though, it no longer held the safety she was used to. She couldn't relax. 

With a disgusted kick at the hay, she left the loft, swinging one handed from the ladder and landing lightly. Instead she climbed to the highest point of the castle, shimmied out a window, then made her way onto the roof. 

Here, she had sat many times. Lady Marion was famous for sitting there, just so, and looking over the sentries on the bold stone walls and focusing on a point somewhere under the cover of the treetops. She could sit for hours, just watching the forest lazily. 

Now, she felt the peace settle over her. But still, it wasn't the same as it had been, when she was a child. She remembered the lives lost under the cover of those trees, remembered the hearts broken. 

Why did she feel this pull towards Kale? Why could she suddenly not deal with life, not stand tall as she had for so long? 

What was it that had changed?

"Nothing's changed." She whispered quietly, hearing her words on the wind. "Not really." She smiled a little sadly. _There's been something between us for some time. Just now…now I'm seeing it from a different angle. _She chafed her legs against the cool breeze. "Whatever it is, it'll have to wait." She said clearly, standing. She must have been sitting for over an hour, judging by the sun. She had things to do, now, starting with telling Lord Raoul who she really was. 

She slid lithely down the roof like she used to, landing on the top of the stairs. The few local men who saw her, first sitting, then moving down the roof, wondered, for a moment, if Robin was who he said he was. 

Robin, unknowing, turned and headed for Lord Raoul's chambers.

**AN:** I'm sorry it took me so long to update, again. And I know its short, but its just a fill in chapter. Thanks to all the reviewers, and to those people who read but don't review, do me a favor and tell me what you think.  

**remisica: **The bonds were supposed to show how she had to relive what happened to her in her mind. Her own memories wouldn't let her go. And no, it wasn't supposed to look like Kale was probing her memories. *frowns* I'll fix that when I one day go through and re-write it.

**Mandas:** hehe, no, it isn't quite over yet. Yes, very happy now!

**Anastazia Silverwind:** why, thanks. *blushes a violent shade of pink* 

**Emlet:** my characters are that good? (I thought Kale was all over the place personally, but hey!) A folk-lawy kinda feel, eh? Cool. 

**angelo dell'inferno:** It was another review that got me writing again. ^_^ My thanks!    


	10. The Price of Pride

**Twisted Justice**

**Chapter 10…The Price of Pride**

Raoul looked at her over steepled fingers. She couldn't read the thoughts on his face, no more than he could read hers. 

"You won't just…give it up to Kale. He won't give it up to you." He shrugged, sighed, took booted feet off the desk. "The only other option I can think of won't be attractive to you." 

Robin raised eyebrows fractionally. There was another option? "Try me." She said, quietly, reaching for confidence she didn't have. 

"Marriage." He said, succinctly. 

Robin coughed, almost swallowing her tongue. 

"I told you it wouldn't be attractive to you, didn't I?" He asked, his smile tiny and quickly hidden behind a hand. "Besides, chances are that would be how the Crown resolved this." He shrugged, then sighed. "You're more than a fair hand with a bow. If you ever want work, I don't doubt I could find it for you." 

_I don't want to spend my life living by my instincts._ "Thank you." She ran lean hands through her hair, standing. 

"Rob—Marion," Raoul caught himself. "have you consulted Kale about this? He might come across as a hard fellow, but he's reasonable. Maybe you can work something out."

"Of course." With a small bow, she left his chambers, leaning against his doorway, her heart hammering in the confines of her ribs. Marriage. 

To _Kale,_ no less. 

She considered it for a moment. He respected her, and hadn't told anyone of her secrets. He hadn't tried to coddle her – maybe he had helped, but what they had was a friendship. She could do worse…

She pushed herself off the wall and made her way to her own sleeping quarters. She wouldn't marry for Avonsleigh. It was too much like taking second best, and she had sworn nothing but first would ever be good enough for her. Either he gave it over, or she would leave. Start a new life, somewhere. Maybe Maren. Lady Marion would stay dead, and Avonsleigh would be safe. 

She went past her own narrow room and into the gardens where she had spoken to Kale what felt like a life time ago.   

Had it been anyone but Kale, she would have rallied local support, and ran him from the castle. But Kale was a good person. A little arrogant, a little cold, and way too high minded, but overall, a good person. 

It would have been so much easier if he was the total prig she had once thought him to be. 

Robin swung herself into a tree to lie flat against the branch, mindful of her injury. If she was going to leave for another country, she would need to be healthy to make it through the borders. 

If she left, she would live the rest of her life as a man. It was unsafe for a woman alone on the road, when all she had was a bow and long honed instincts. Maybe, when she was an old woman…

But she doubted she would make it to see old age. She could be a mercenary. She had the know how. With a little work on her staff skills, she would have no problem getting a place. 

Maybe, she realised, she was being proud and foolish. But everyone had their shortcomings, hers was pride, and she accepted and would live with that. She knew what she would do. Not now, but in the early hours of the morning, when men were at their lowest ebb and life and death walked hand in hand. 

Between now and then, she only had one thing to do before she left Avonsleigh forever. 

*

Robin knew where Kale's sleeping quarters were: her father's old chambers, of course. She also knew how to get in there unnoticed, the gloom of night untouched by sun and unlit by moon cloaking her. 

Now, her feet touched the familiar floor of her father's room. This, at least, was unchanged. Apparently whatever mage the mercenaries had employed hadn't been enough to break through the layers of spells on these walls. 

Kale was sitting at her father's desk, studying something on thick parchment by light of oil lamp. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were blind and deaf." She stepped into the light, her heart hammering. 

His eyes didn't leave the map. "Good evening." 

Had he known she was there all along, or did he just bluff well? "I spoke to lord Raoul." 

"About?" he looked up now, letting the piece of paper – blank, she saw, puzzled momentarily – fall carelessly onto the desk. 

"Avonsleigh." She said, with a tiny shrug. 

"And?" His eyes were guarded. How long had it been since she had seen him like this? She realised then how close they had become…

"He had nothing useful to add." He had given her a new option, but it _wasn't_ useful. It wasn't a lie. Maybe not a whole truth, but he wouldn't know. Not until it was too late. 

"So you decided to visit me?" He asked, with a small smile. "Climbing through a passage I didn't even realise was there, instead of simply knocking on the door. Anyone would think you had some kind of sinister plan, with all this subterfuge."

She felt a fission of fear work its way through her body. Did he know, somehow? Was she more transparent than she had thought? "I came to take you up on your…offer." 

He raised his eyebrows. "You're going to take a position as an archer and man—woman-at-arms?"    

"Not quite." She carefully rotated her stiff shoulder. 

He stood, warily, sharp eyes studying her impassive, hawk-like face. "Which offer, then?" 

He wasn't going to make this easy for her. Damn it. Damn _him._

By way of answer, she held out her arms, letting him see the difference. 

She had come to him without the layer of lies. Her shirt revealed breasts long bound, now, for the time, free. 

His eyes narrowed, then widened. "Robin. Don't play these games with me." But his face had softened. Without even realising, he echoed the feelings she had expressed earlier. 

"I'm sick of games, Kale. And lies." She took a deep breath and two steps, moving so they were close enough all he had to do was reach and take what she offered. 

"What changed?" he asked, quietly. Again, her earlier feelings, though he didn't know of them. 

"I realised the truth." Maybe she had. Maybe…maybe…

One of his scarred hands reached out carefully, traced the line of the ring that hung in plain view around her neck. "Lady Marion." He said quietly, with a smile that she didn't even try to understand. 

"Robin." She said, meeting his eyes. "Lady Marion died long ago." 

His hand left the ring, moved downwards to rest on the laces of her shirt. "Are you sure?" 

Her voice was stronger than his. "No. I could live to be a thousand and I would still be unsure. This choice, at least, is mine."

"And would you pay the price, if it is the wrong choice?" He slowly unlaced the throat of her shirt, but didn't drop his gaze. 

"Yes." 

It was answer enough for them both. 

*

Robin looked down at the sleeping form of Kale. The choice had been right, she knew. And now…

Slowly, she eased out from under the covers, wishing she could stay and knowing the price of her pride. She paid for that, not her mistakes. 

He didn't stir as she climbed from the window. Second best would never be enough for her. At least now she knew what it was to be a woman. 

Now she knew what it was she would hide, as she ran from what she had killed for. 

**AN:** I'm back! Quite obviously, I know. Just wanted to make that clear. Another thing to make clear: this is not the last chapter! There is at least one more clamoring to get out of my head and onto the screen. Next update in a day or two. I know this wasn't particularly fantastic, so please don't flame me. Actually, flame if you like. You can't say anything I haven't already told myself. 

And for those who don't read my other current fic, "song of the lioness: translated" (shame on you!) I've been away due to personal problems. Oh, and lots of updates for that too. Soon. As in, tomorrow. 

**Ailan:** And here was me sure my grammar sucked. All I can say is, thank god for spell check. Usually (not always, notably) where I stuff up, it notices. Yes indeedy I do have quite a few originals, I'm in the throws of finishing my original series, and I've had it looked at by every english teacher in the school, getting tips and what not on how to edit it and improve them. The problem with getting them published is that the publishing companies don't like to take manuscripts that haven't been professionally edited, and since mine are so long, its going to cost a lot to have them all, or even one, looked at. ^_^ Still…one day, I hope. There are some huge compliments in your reviews…thank you for taking the time to read through my ficlets and to give me your thoughts! 

**Everyone:** don't mean to group you all like that…I'm being told off for spending too much time on the computer…is there such a thing??? I want to get this posted as soon as I can so I won't take the time to do individual thanks…you all know I appreciate it (and if you didn't you do now). Every review I get makes me smile (since I haven't been flamed yet, for some reason…at least on this fic.) Big hugs all round, and you'll hear from me soon! 

~Elisse  


	11. Standing Alone

**Twisted Justice**

**Chapter 11…Standing Alone**

Robin's feet found good purchase in the old stone wall, as she had known they would. Still, she didn't move down, her hands gripping the edge firmly and her eyes locked on the sleeping form of Kale. For a moment, she thought what she felt might be enough to keep her here. 

One hand went to the chain around her neck. It was tarnished silver, not particularly good quality. That only made it easier to break, as Robin pulled it from her neck. 

From the first time since Avonsleigh was invaded, she took it off, gave it up. He would know, when he awoke in the morning, she was no longer fighting him for the fief. She decided she had spent too long fighting. 

Now, it was time to walk away from it all. Close her ears, block her eyes…

She wished they had spoken of love last night. Even so, she would always remember it. Eyes turned ahead, she eased down the wall, then, with her infamous stealth, found the trap door that had saved her once before, and made her way unhindered from the fief. She only stopped only to readjust the quiver over her shoulder and spare a moment to wish for the modified breast band. She supposed it would be difficult to shoot with breasts in the way, at least until she got used to them. 

*

"Robin's gone." Little John found Kale sitting at the foot of a rumpled bed, wearing a pair of breeches and holding something in one fist. He didn't care about his lord's state of dress. His friend was gone, most likely from some double crosser who knew to take out the fief they'd have to take out Robin first.  

"I know." Kale said, quietly. 

"How?" The word came from deep in John's chest, his hand going to the hilt of a hunting knife. John was the only person who would notice Robin's bow gone, as well as the armguards she used in heavy battle. 

"She gave up Avonsleigh." He said, holding up the ring, smile full of self-mockery. 

John's eyes narrowed further. "Speak sense, man. And hurry, we need to find him!" 

"Robin is the lady Marion." He flicked the ring to John so he could study it. "Hid not only her sex, but her past. I found out when she came to meet me – she was injured." He shrugged, coldly casual. 

John studied the ring for only a moment, his eyes cold when they met Kale's. "You forced our lady out?" 

"Not 'your lady', John. Robin. She…she would have been welcome here. She chose to go." He stood then, turning to walk over to the window, where two handprints were clear in the dust. "You know she does things on her terms, or not at all." 

"We—we must follow her!" he said, totally confused, wanting action to deaden the need to sit and think. 

Kale turned, arms folded, his expression ironic. "Could you track her?" he asked, coolly. "You know her skill. If she wants to leave, there is no way to stop her." 

John stood still for long minutes. "There is only one reason Robin—lady Marion—would give up fief Avonsleigh, after fighting for it for so long." He threw the ring to Kale negligently. "She loved this land. There must be something that she loves stronger for her to sacrifice it." He shrugged, noting the expression in Kale's eyes turned colder. "You're right. I can't track her. A _Coldfang_ couldn't track Robin. Unless she doesn't want to go." 

Kale's fist tightened around the ring. "This isn't a fairy tale." He said, clearly. "And it won't end like one." 

*

A summer storm was rolling in – she could smell it on the air. About to turn and warn her men, she stopped, mouth half open and both feet now still. 

It was the tail end of summer. Already, the air was cooling, and soon the mountains would be dressed in white. Boughs would be heavy with snow, and the ground would be hard and cold at night. She had no tent, no bedroll, nothing other than her bow, a fresh quiver, the clothes she wore and two knives, one a hunting knife, the other a cruel, curved blade that she could, if she had to, use with skill. She would live. She had faced greater odds than what she faced now: there was no enemy following her, no one out to harm her except the usual bandits and raiders.  

Robin could deal with that. She _would_. For the last three days she had kept up her steady pace. She could have gone faster, but down the track she would have fared worse. Better to keep to this pace consistently. Besides, no one was even attempting to follow her. She could take all the time she wanted. As long as she could leave this valley by the onset of winter. She'd spent enough nights on the ground to know she didn't want to be caught in the open, alone, at night in the middle of winter if it was avoidable. 

At the thought of lying cold and alone at night, her mind supplied her with an image of Kale. Or, more a feeling of warmth and content. 

Since that was hardly likely to happen, she would have to settle for a decent inn over the worst of the winter. And between now and then, she had to earn to coin to pay for it…

The sound of footsteps broke into her thoughts, and she immediately swung herself as quietly as she could into the nearest tree. It would be nightfall soon, and if there were people about she would possibly have to spend her night where she was, rather than risk being caught. 

A familiar man came into view. He went unarmed except for a sword, sheathed for the moment. Robin's heartbeat picked up. He wouldn't see her. She doubted anyone would, unless she chose to show herself. Still, she would be careful. 

He sighed, stopping beneath her tree and positioning himself just so, before the sound of a liquid hitting the ground met Robin's ears, and she fought not to either wince or grin. Instead, she fitted an arrow to her bow, drew, then loosed. 

It flew true, and with no sound other than the falling of a body and the puff of leaf litter, he went from one world into the next. And he still had his pants down, too. 

Robin looked around herself carefully. She was sure he had been just a sentry for a small band of mercenaries. They must be pretty confident, too, to stay so close to the fief. 

Then again, without Robin and her band, there would be no scouts in the forest for awhile. It saddened her…win back the fief, loose the land. 

Suddenly, she felt her old wolfish grin. No, she might be only one, and this may not be her land any more, but she was still Robin, and these men had a few grudges against them still. Not even after the death of Finn would she shrug and say it's over. Her revenge…

She would never be satisfied that she had avenged her family and all those in her care. But this could be her last gift to Avonsleigh.

Scanning the area again, she picked out her path, with the boughs and branches to pave the way. As soon as they found his body, they'd know it was Robin. She fletched her arrows specifically so they _were_ distinctive. 

She grinned, spotting a half asleep sentry. Once they knew it was her, they wouldn't be quite this easy to pick off. She sighted her target, and released, the string groaning. The man seemed to look down at the arrow in his chest, pinning him to the tree. Then he relaxed, and didn't breathe again. 

For a moment, Robin hoped he found peace in the next world. She delivered the justice, twisted though it was. They didn't need to be judged again. Or, not too harshly.   
She moved on. Depending how strong they were, she would pick off sentries and strays. There was a limit to her skills as an archer, and if they found her position, there was no one to cover her as she got away. So, she would have to be careful, and bide her time.

With a new purpose, she pushed thoughts of Kale and Avonsleigh from her mind.

*

Her plan worked well. When they finally roused themselves enough to hunt for the missing sentries, they grew fearful and wary. Their numbers went from twenty three to eleven in four days. 

It was dawn when she was surrounded.

Robin fired mechanically, felling men even as she wondered how long it would take for her body to be found if she were slain. Wondering if it ever would be. 

Somehow she kept them back far enough that she was still able to use her bow. Somehow, she dodged the return fire. It was the last man who hit her, and even that wasn't a mortal wound, though she wouldn't walk easily until it was properly healed. He, on the other hand, would never walk again. 

She took a bandanna from the closest man, and washed it wearily in the stream before binding the wound on her thigh. It was a few hours to Rocky Hollow, though it would take her all day now, without full movement. She would wait there until she was stronger. 

So she set out, weary and shaken. Her limp worsened as the sun rose, and she had to rest several times. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandanna, but she knew herself lucky. It could have been – should have been – worse. 

It was a little after noon when she realised she was being followed. She forced herself to move faster, doubling back to confuse her tracks. She gained some time, sliding into the river to leave behind no tracks as she waded against the current to Rocky Hollow, remembering how she had lowered one of her men into his watery grave. Remembering how she had stood beside Kale.   

She knew they were close, trusting to instincts. Instead of standing her ground, she sought refuge in Rocky Hollow. They wouldn't find her, unless they had dogs to track her. She was tired of standing alone. If they came, she would fight, and fall. She had long known it would one day be the price. 

It was cold comfort. She lay against the wall, wishing for a blanket. Weakened, and in pain, she listened to a quiet conference of the mercenaries just outside her sanctuary. Her hand didn't leave her bow, even when she fell asleep. She didn't hear the familiar "bird calls" of the men she had led, nor the hiss of arrows loosed. 

Her dreams were filled with Kale, not the screams of family and friends. Exhausted and spent, she slept through the night without waking for the first time in months.

**AN:** Pointless chapter, I know. Not particularly good. But necessary for the next one to make sense. Yes, there will be another chapter. I won't let Robin just lie there for days as her wound becomes infected. No way a character of mine is going to die of gangrene. Well…maybe they will. I have a mind to kill Kale for being such a prick about the whole sleeping-with-her-then-letting-her-go thing. Hmm. Nah—Robin wouldn't let me. 

I'm thinking of maybe sprucing up some other fairy tales/legends. Putting them in TP's world and seeing how they manage as I twist and tweak everything. I could do Cinderella and prince Roald…or maybe one of Roald's sons. But I think I'd get bored with the characters. Any suggestions welcome…except Goldilocks. No way am I having talking bears and a chick with golden ringlets and a halo in my fic. ^_~ And thanks to my only reviewer, **Galux Pheonix**.

Oh—and I will post the next chapter on SotL translated later today if my beta hasn't gotten back to me between now and then. Its just that her computer crashed, so…

Keep writing,

~Elisse


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